


Cat Person

by WritLarge



Series: Armes Trek [1]
Category: Inception (2010), Star Trek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, M/M, in which Eames is not a cat, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:33:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11040948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: Arthur misses his cat and would very much like to get another. He gets Eames instead.





	Cat Person

Arthur missed his cat. 

Reassigned in the middle of nowhere, his carefully built career in tatters and with no friends to speak of, all he could think was that if he could go back and change one thing he’d rescue his cat. It wasn’t as though anything else would’ve made a difference. Cobb had been hell bent on his course and dragged the whole damned ship down with him, fucking literally. It had been sheer luck that no one had been killed. Weeks and weeks of debriefs and court martial appearances had kept Arthur from being stripped of his rank and commission, but he was still marked by the incident. And now here he was, on a quiet starbase where no one with any real ambition could be bothered to visit. Maybe in a few years, if Arthur didn’t fuck anything up and kissed a lot of ass, he might get transferred to back to the fleet again.

If he’d stayed on Earth, he could have switched into Science or left Starfleet entirely. It had felt like defeat, however, and he’d been so fucking angry at the time. So Arthur had accepted his transfer and tried not to let the bitter ashes of his anger affect his work. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been ready then to get another cat, replacing Patches who’d been with him since he’d arrived on the USS Montmartre. He regretted his lack of foresight now. Earth origin pets weren’t easy to come by this far away from the Sol system. Arthur was only aware of one small dog on base. There were always fish, very nearly mandatory for high ranking officer meeting rooms, but you couldn’t cuddle a fish.

The sight of his cat hair-free clothes brushes depressed him every morning. It was pathetic and he knew it.

Arthur sighed into his drink, sitting alone in the outer ring lounge. Lemonade. He’d been tempted to replicate himself something genuinely alcoholic, he’d never seen the point of synthehol, but his reputation was tarnished enough that he didn’t dare chance it out in the open. Arthur had ventured a few non-work conversations with the crew here, who were a mix of Humans and Andorians for the most part. It was a small station. Gossip spread quickly and they were all aware of his past. The fate of the Montmartre had been big news. Most of the talk had been behind his back, however, which was a relief. He’d much rather they try and puzzle him out than confront or interrogate him directly, because he was sick to death of explaining. Instead, the conversations had been amicable, about the station, the services and foodstuffs available within, traders that went through, the small holodeck and its collection of programs, and so on. Arthur was an outsider to their close knit group, but he wasn’t shunned. 

He had gotten a fair amount of teasing when he’d asked about acquiring a cat. Maybe the humour at his expense had been a good sign, but Arthur hadn’t thought it was that odd, wanting a pet. Lieutenant Nash (still junior grade, which made him wonder) had leveled a few snide remarks that others had giggled at, but had made no sense to Arthur at all. What was wrong with liking cats?

“So,” a warm voice broke into his thoughts, followed by a body sliding into the seat across from Arthur’s, “I hear you’re looking for company.”

“I-” Arthur’s train of thought jumped its track and plunged into a ravine. Sitting across from him was what he could only describe as a large ginger tabby. Arthur blinked and forced himself to reassess. Oh. Not a tabby, but definitely a ginger cat. Oh fuck, what were they called again? Caitians.

Arthur mentally reviewed the entry in his mind on Federation races. The man who had joined him was from an alien race that looked, to humans, like Cat people. Ears, fur, even a tail. They kept their homeworld somewhat isolated from outsiders, but they were famously good-natured and easy to get along with.

“I... think there’s been some confusion. I may have asked some people about finding a cat.” The man grinned and Arthur briefly wondered what the universal translator was telling him. “A companion animal.”

“Yes, darling. I promise, I’m quite adept at providing companionship, provided you’re actually an interested party,” he looked Arthur up and down. “I find humans lovely really, but they can be rather odd about some things. How do you feel about fur?”

That the words came out in a rumbling purr of a voice did nothing for Arthur’s shaky equilibrium.

“I like fur, but- wait,” Arthur shook his head, “I’m not looking for a companion or a lover or whatever you’re thinking. I just want a pet cat.”

The Caitian’s brow furrowed, “I’m not sure I understand. A smaller - ?”

“Yes. No,” he stopped and took a breath. “This is ridiculous. I don’t even know your name.”

“Eames. Captain Eames, to be particular.” Arthur watched the man’s tail flick through the air behind him.

“You’re a trader?”

“I am. And you’re new,” Eames said.

“Lieutenant Commander Arthur Cohen,” he didn’t bother holding out a hand to shake, since the Captain hadn’t either. 

“Arthur,” the r’s in his speech rolled off his tongue. “And you’re seeking a tiny cat companion?” He held Arthur’s gaze, not at all put off. He might as well explain. Arthur’s shift had ended less than an hour ago and he’d rather talk than slip into feeling sorry for himself.

“On Earth we have small domesticated felines, similar to your very, very distant ancestors. They’re pets, not an intelligent race.” That was important to clarify, he felt. Arthur didn’t want to imply anything insulting about Caitians. He knew some humans could still be odd about less conventionally humanoid races and the Andorians on board would be far worse with their tendency towards smug superiority.

“Well, now I’m terribly curious. Is this why humans are so squeamish about tails and fur?” Eames sprawled casually in his chair, though his eyes were intent on Arthur, his ears swiveled forward.

“Ah, possibly. Humans consider bestiality taboo and-” shit, that sounded pretty bad. Thankfully, Eames only huffed in amusement.

“And my luxuriant countenance might simply be too much to cope with? How sad for them.” Arthur was beginning to wonder what language Eames was using if the translator was giving him this. Did all Caitians sound this suggestive? Though considering why Eames had sought him out in the first place...

“Look, I’m sorry for the confusion. I think they were probably playing a joke, sending you in my direction.”

“I can’t be too sorry for it,” Eames leaned forward and smiled. “You did say you like fur.”

“Yes- but, I-” Arthur stumbled over his words and, to his horror, found himself blushing.

“Is that why you want a pet cat? For a cuddle? Does no one on board have a cat? I’d rather like to see one of the creatures for myself.”

“Uh, no. I seem to be the only cat person assigned here.”

Eames’ beamed, “Oh, I like that. _Cat Person_ ,” the words rumbled out of his mouth in another purr. What the hell was the translator telling him? “Have you had cats before?”

“Yeah, a few.”

“Why didn’t you bring them with you?”

“They only live around 15 years.” Arthur would have left it there, but Eames made an encouraging sound that spurred him to keep going. “My first and second cats were Shadow and Fluff, both died before I graduated from the Academy. My third cat Max went with my ex when we broke up. And Patches...” 

“Ah. Passed on more recently, I take it.”

“Yeah.” Patches had died on the Montmartre, her body irretrievable.

“Why Patches as a moniker?”

“Uh, because of her coat. She was a calico.” Eames looked perplexed. Did that not translate? “She had patches of black, white, and orange fur.”

“Really?” The man perked up with interest. “I’ve never seen such a thing. Do you have any images?”

And somehow Arthur ended up with an extremely curious Caitian in his quarters perusing his cat pictures on a PADD. He’d inquired in detail after each one and found Patches to be quite striking. Apparently, Caitians didn’t have a colouring equivalent to calico cats. 

“How marvelous. But only the one? Did your crew members have cats as well?”

“No, just me.” Eames frowned at that. “What?”

“It’s different is all. Family is quite important to my people and we tend to form larger groupings. I have eleven siblings myself so far, including my twin.”

“Seriously?” Eames’ form did remind him more of large cats than small domesticated ones. Lions, Arthur recalled, were one of the few cat species that did live in larger family groups. Eames didn’t sport a mane, but he did have longer tufts of fur along his jawline and a lion-like nose, though his mouth was more humanoid in shape. 

“Mmm, I gather it’s different for humans, for many other races I’ve met actually.” That was certainly true for Arthur. He was an only child and his relationship with his parents was strained. They hadn’t been thrilled by his Starfleet ambitions and after what happened... their last meeting had involved a lot of shouting. Another reason he’d been reluctant to stay on Earth. It was far too close to home. Eames continued, “for a cat to be solitary seems rather cruel.”

“Domesticated cats will bond sometimes, but they mate in quick encounters and don’t really maintain family groupings.”

“Did your cats ever mate?”

“No, they were fixed.” 

“Fixed?” Oh no. Was he really going to have to explain that?

“Umm. Made sterile.” Eames appeared to pale. “No, no! It’s better for them if they aren’t being bred.” Arthur tried to reassure him as they sat on the couch. 

“Being neutered?”

“Because otherwise they’d rut or go into heat.”

“And how is that a problem?” Eames raised an eyebrow.

“But they- they,” Arthur flushed again. How the hell was he supposed to rationalize this? “When female cats are fertile they act out, spray, and generally go into a sexual overdrive. Male cats are more aggressive and spray to mark their territory. If they’re pets, especially on a ship or station, it’s just easier if they don’t have to deal with their sex drive and for general behaviour issues.” He cringed and waited for Eames response.

“But how often would that actually happen?”

“For female cats? Several times a year if they don’t get pregnant.”

“Several times a year?” Eames’ face was incredulous. Clearly, Caitians didn’t go into heat in the same way. 

“Yeah. It used to be a big problem, too many cats and other small animals.”

“Several times a year,” he repeated, rubbing at his face. “I can see your problem. They’d be forced to put the unwanted dears out of their misery. This is all exceedingly depressing, darling.” 

Yeah, Arthur could see how it might come across that way. He rose and went to the replicator, resisting his earlier desire for alcohol. Alcohol was toxic to cats, among other things. He didn’t want to risk that it might be the same for Eames. 

“Would you like-”

“Something chocolate, please. I feel I rather need the indulgence.” Arthur replicated two hot chocolates and returned to the couch.

“This isn’t bad for you?”

“Not good for your cats, then?” he shook his head as if lamenting the fate of kittens who couldn’t enjoy a little chocolate. “It’s fine for me. Your alcohol is quite poisonous, however, and I generally try to avoid even your tempered synthehol. It’s too disturbingly similar.” There was that question answered.

“Honestly, I don’t think cats know what they’re missing. And they can be happy. They tend to bond with their owners-”

“And they in return?” Eames interjected.

“Yeah. Definitely. Still, cats are known for being more solitary as pets, not being as needy as a dog, for example. Though it differs depending on the breed.”

“I do like the variety. Though I can’t make sense of why you’d want a cat without a tail,” his own tail swayed in air. Eames had questioned him about Shadow, a bit horrified by his tail stub until Arthur had explained about the manx breed.

Arthur could only shrug. He’d been six when he’d chosen Shadow for his own. 

“What type do you think you’ll get this time?” Eames’ tail curled down and around Arthur.

“I don’t know. I usually visit a cat shelter and go with my gut, but this time I’ll have to have one brought. Nothing too big, probably a short hair of some kind, and around a year old. A cat already accustomed to space travel would adapt best,” he sighed. It would probably take a while.

“You miss her.” Arthur was a little defensive, given the ribbing he’d gotten from the others, but Eames made the observation with such sympathy it soothed away the sting.

“Patches was with me for years and when- I... I miss having her around.” 

“Undemanding companionship.” Undemanding? Arthur chuckled weakly at Eames’ wording, or the translation of it. “Was that funny?”

“Cats are great, but they can be little assholes too. I don’t miss my carpet being torn up, for example. But even with the annoyances, they’re worth it. Sleeping with a tiny furry heat source nearby has been a constant for as long as I can remember, even if they do like to steal most of the bed.”

“And here you are all alone. No wonder you’re so tense, love,” he set his mug down and rubbed a hand up Arthur’s back. “Would you like me to ask around?”

“You?”

“I know a rather lot of individuals in the business of finding people what they want. It may cost you a little more, but I’m sure I could manage it faster than regular Federation channels,” Eames crowded his space, the fur along his jaw lightly brushing Arthur’s cheek.

“Okay. Yeah, thanks.” 

“Excellent,” he purred, scattering Arthur’s thoughts completely. Then he shifted back and pulled off his shirt.

“You- what are you doing?” 

“Providing a not so tiny furry heat source. Clearly, you haven’t been doing well without one.”

“Listen, I don’t need a-” Eames took Arthur’s hands and buried them in the fur of his chest, “oh, that’s... really soft.”

“It’s not an imposition. I enjoy a friendly cuddle now and then myself.”

“Friendly?” he asked, given that insinuations about a lot more than friendship had been made. Eames smiled and pulled him closer, leaning back along the couch. Arthur followed him down.

“I like you, darling. Far too well to settle for a quick tumble. I expect we’ll be seeing rather a lot of one another now that you’re posted here.” 

“Will we?” They shifted lower until they were laid out, Arthur half on top of Eames, fingers petting his coat. It was calming and intimate. Arthur was tired. Tired of regretting. Tired of worrying. Tired of everything. He closed his eyes and decided that he liked Caitians a lot.

“Yes, darling,” Eames’ fingers threaded through Arthur’s hair, taking a few liberties of their own. “Relax.”

The soft command settled over him, the weight of the last few months sliding away as Arthur dozed, fur soft and warm against his cheek. It was the best he’d felt in months. Whatever the translator had told Eames when Arthur had said he was a cat person must have been pretty accurate after all.

**Author's Note:**

> This could probably use more polish but I wanted to get it up on time. Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
